


Distant Melodies

by guilt_is_for_mortals



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5 +1 things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, Jon plays the piano, M/M, Pining Martin Blackwood, Romance, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23769397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilt_is_for_mortals/pseuds/guilt_is_for_mortals
Summary: The five times Martin Blackwood secretly listened to his neighbor playing the piano+The one time his neighbor taught him how to play
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 12
Kudos: 164





	Distant Melodies

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, when you are stuck with all your WIP's, you just gotta whoop up a little JonMartin for the soul. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

1)

Martin’s neighbour was playing the piano. He must have left his balcony door open, because Martin could hear every note clear and crisp. It was a slightly sad tune, unfamiliar to his ears, and yet so beautiful that he couldn’t help but walk over towards his own balcony. He pushed the transparent curtains aside and stepped out into the golden light of a setting sun. 

He shivered despite wearing a soft jumper, the tiled floor was cold underneath his bare feet and he slung his arms around himself to stay a little warmer. The piano player gained vigor, the tune growing faster, louder, a beautiful crescendo and then, just as it reached its climax, it went back to the soft, almost whispering notes. Such a sweet melancholy. For a moment Martin was confused by a cool touch on his cheeks, only to realize he was crying. A silent tear, falling to the floor in unison with the last bittersweet tone. 

Just as he gathered the courage to speak, even though he wasn’t really sure what to say, there were steps audible in the flat next to his. A soft rustling of curtains - and his neighbour closed the balcon door, leaving Martin in silence. It reminded Martin of the new job he had just started as an assistant and how he felt whenever he was trying to speak to his new boss, Jon. Words, boiling up inside of him, trying say something, to prove himself to be not as worthless as the other thought of him. He never said a word about it, in the end. 

2)

The next time Martin heard his neighbour play it was raining. After a few rare, hot summer days the sky had darkened, black clouds pulled over the sun like a thick blanket. Martin had watched in awe as the sunbeams fought against their cover. They lost, in the end. The wind, cool on his face, carried a soft tune within it. Only then Martin realized that the neighbour’s balcony doors were open. He was playing again.

Martin found himself unable to move, even as the first thick, cold drops of summer rain fell onto his skin, his nose, his bare toes. The music was darker this time and full of emotions he could not put into words. A requiem that made the rain feel poetic, made the thunder growl and the lightning glow as if Thor himself sent it down to earth. The tune carried him to a faraway place, where everything was meaningful and words could end wars. Where lovers fell united in tragedy and magic could change the fabric of reality itself. 

The neighbour had long stopped playing, his doors closed again. Martin was wet down to his bones and freezing when he came back from where the music had taken him. He shivered when he realized how much the whole situation reminded him of work and that statement Jon had him follow up about a probably cursed calliope. 

3)

He had not expected a love song. Warm and pure and vibrant, it had Martin wonder who the mysterious pianist was playing it for. The neighbour had not been making music in over a week, Martin almost had expected him to never return, had wondered if it had been a fantasy, a mere fabrication of his own mind. 

But the music was back, clear and in broad daylight, floating through the air towards Martin. It had him wonder if his neighbour was in love, if the feelings vibrating within the music's essence were the player’s. Were they sitting there, smiling, thinking of a new acquaintance, a new lover? 

For a moment, Martin let himself sink into fantasies. Thoughts of himself sitting next to someone, their slender fingers soft but certain, always finding the right keys. Tiny smiles exchanged, gazes lingering for just a few seconds too long. The kind of romance he read about in books of forgotten times, the sweet and innocent blossoming of tender feelings. It was the kind of feelings Martin got when he brought Jon tea at work and Jon smiled his tiny, almost-not-there smile at him. 

4)

He was angry. Missing keys and slightly off tune, fingers pressing hard, almost aggressively. The melody was familiar to Martin‘s ears, maybe a variation of one of the pieces the neighbor had played before. The pacing got faster, the pianist gaining speed, playing himself into a frenzy of whirling sounds-

One off key. An abrupt stop, startling Martin more then the following crash of a piano keyboard being forcefully closed. Silence, just for a moment. Then footsteps, up and down the room, he could hear his neighbor pacing.

„A-are you okay?“   
Martin was unable to stop himself from calling over towards the open window. He just needed to know if the person next door was fine, wanted to know what happened to cause such anger. The steps stopped. For a moment, Martin thought that he had seen an angry face, dark clothes and dark hair against the window. He could almost feel the others annoyance radiating over towards him. 

It reminded Martin of Jon and his behaviour at work so much that it sent a shiver down his spine. The man pulled the balcony door shut, violently. _Close the door, Martin! Leave me alone. I don’t need your help. Stop disturbing me._

5)

Two weeks. Martin hadn’t heard him play for two whole weeks, no matter how much he would have needed the distraction. Martin worried about him. Had _she_ got him? Jane Prentiss, out there, knocking relentlessly. Martin would have tried not to dwell in overthinking, but it cast a blissful ignorance over his mind, deafening out the knocking outside. 

Had the pianist stopped playing because Martin had called over to him? There must have been a reason for him to be so angry, to play with such force and barely hidden fury. It was past midnight and Martin lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling while thinking about a man he had barely ever seen once. 

He could hear heavy rain falling outside, but he didn’t dare hope that the sound of raindrops would lull him to sleep. He had no such luck. Sleep didn’t come easy these days. Not when his thoughts drifted back to the worms. To the woman waiting for him outside. 

It was then when he heard the melody again. Soft and bittersweet, making its way through the raindrops, right towards Martin. Almost inaudible through the wall, but still _there_ . And with it, the knocking stopped. Martin only realized when he felt it in his heart, felt the heaviness of relaxation flowing through him. The melody washed away his anxious thoughts. The neighbor was playing again. The knocking was gone and Martin could, _finally_ , sleep. 

+1

Martin was sitting right next to Jon, their legs pressed against each other. Jon‘s toes feeling cold against his own warm ones. Cool hands closed around Martin’s fingers and he could feel himself blush. He was still blushing, even after a whole year of them being together. It felt both much longer and much shorter after everything that had happened. 

„You need to relax your fingers, Martin. It’s one of the most important parts of playing.“ Martin knew he had to relax if he wanted to learn how to play the piano, but how could he? How could he ever get used to the way his name sounded spoken from Jon’s lips? How could he get used to the gentle touches, the soft kisses, the way Jon smiled at him? How could he relax with the man he loved sitting right next to him?

„I can almost feel you overthinking,“ Jon said, gently placing his hand on Martin’s cheek. His dark eyes were looking directly looking into Martin’s. 

„You’re one to talk, Jon.“ His boyfriend smiled at that reply. The memory of the day he found out that Jon had been his neighbor all along, was still clear before his eyes. Jon had known for quite a while, but didn’t dare to say anything. Martin had suspected it after half-seeing Jon once, but didn’t dare assume. Both of them overthinking. Both of them in love. 

They fought off Jane Prentiss. 

_They shared their first kiss._

They fought Nikola. 

_Jon asked him to move in._

They saved Tim. 

_Martin told Jon that he loved him._

Elias was in jail.

Sometimes Martin was afraid that it could all just be a dream, as if he could wake up any moment and it would all be over.

„I love you.“ 

Martin could feel all the built up tension leaving his body at once. It wasn’t the first time Jon said those words to him, but the warm, dizzy happiness they brought stayed the same. This was too good to be a dream.

„I love you, too.“ 


End file.
